POSTCARD WITH A CITY’S AERIAL VIEW AT NIGHT
To think that each lit window there
tells a story in this city’s Great Books.
A few paragraphs — not pages or chapters —
written by us all. He and I
met some of you in those rooms, loved many.
Elbows on wine-freckled linens, we ate
& drank at tables humble & bold. Feasted,
we wrote our own fiction or tentative truths.
Some of you opted out, opted away.
Others slipped their names over yours
in doorbell name-holders.
++++++++++Many of you found us in this city,
he and I, writing our beautifully banal &
forgettable story. He and I. He and I.